


Into myself in the most precious way

by HellNHighHeels



Series: This body is yours and mine [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bodyswap, F/M, This is 20 percent crack 75 percent filth and 5 percent fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 18:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13886379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellNHighHeels/pseuds/HellNHighHeels
Summary: The Doctor watches with envious eyes as she slips a biscuit into that mouth of his. He's always thought it was quite a thin mouth, attached to a chin that was much too large. But River's body doesn't seem to mind, far too focused on the fingers that lift the treat slowly to his lips. The image of teeth flash in his mind's eye, shivers chasing up River's spine as phantom bites ghost along her neck and thighs.The Doctor pinches River's legs shut, teeth sinking into River's plump lips as he attempts to tame this body he can't control. He forces these eyes to look away, desperately trying not to think on the fact his own fingers are making him, no not him, River's body squirm. He doesn't fancy himself, he silently declares. It's River's body that fancies his. And she fancies him something rotten.





	Into myself in the most precious way

**Author's Note:**

> If you want humor and a pinch of backstory, see part one. But if you're just here for smut, then, voila. Also you can all blame Cassie, Katie, Pam, and Zima for bullying me into finishing this. And yes, the title of this is from a Britney Spears song about masturbation. Live with it.

 

"Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along."- Jalaluddin Mevlana Rumi

* * *

 

 

It's been days. 

 

Days he's been trapped in this body, this soft, curvy, torturous prison that's endlessly flooded by unrelenting and unbearable hormones. He isn't sure how she bears such ruthless assaults on a constant basis. He isn't sure how she copes with these undergarments, either, for that matter. He fleetingly considered going without, but then his mind was flooded with all manner of memories where he'd discovered River Song's lack of knickers, and well, even though it's technically _his_ body at the moment, his brain failed to make the distinction. Alas, he's stuck in said garments. They're strappy and tight and fine to look at, but in practice? Dear god. The phrase " _slip into something more comfortable_ " has decidedly lost all meaning. They're nothing short of torture devices and anyone who says otherwise is a fraud. They're riding up in all the wrong ways and he tries to be still even though River's body wants nothing more than to shift and wiggle until the hazel eyes across the table finally look up from their tea.

 

The Doctor sighs instead, and where it would have sounded pouty and petulant on his baby face, on River's lips it simply sounds bored.

 

"You're wearing that wrong, you know,” River answers, her attentions never straying from the book she's reading, and the Doctor realizes that it's quite infuriating, how detached his scrawny body can be when it wants to.

 

"I'll wear what I like, how I like," the Doctor scoffs. River's voice fills the air but the tone of it is decidedly him, squaring River's small shoulders in defiance as he straightens the collar of his shirt. He's pretty sure it's a shirt anyway. There’s a slit down the front that leaves little to the imagination. He was sure it would be cause for distraction, but as it turns out, his scheme has backfired because every time he glances downward he gets an eye full of River’s glorious chest and his mind floods with a shockingly descriptive array of filth. Even so, it was probably the safest option as it was one of the only things he could find that wasn't skin tight or equipped with a small arsenal.

 

The protest seems to hold little effect as he watches through River's eyes as his mouth curls, a knowing smirk making its home on his lips as River assuages him, "Whatever you say, sweetie."

 

The tone of voice she uses is more mischievous than anything he’s ever heard leave his mouth before and it makes River’s body shift in her seat. The Doctor dutifully ignores the tingling sensation pricking at River’s insides and instead gives a firm nod, River's curls tickling his cheeks. Too right he'd dress her body in what he wanted, especially since she held no qualms about dressing his in all manner of outrageous things. Today she's put him in _leather_ , of all things, and beneath the jacket is a V-necked shirt so tight the Doctor swears it must have come from her side of the closet. The deep neckline looks out of place on his pale, sharp chest, and yet the Doctor finds it difficult to tear River's gaze from his collarbone. River takes in a deep breath, his chest rising and falling and the green eyes the Doctor currently inhabits seize the opportunity to drag over his form.

 

He's found that River's body does this quite often, some sort of muscle memory, he supposes. She's always watching him, fleeting glances when his back is turned, scanning the width of his shoulders all the way down to his narrow hips. River's body seems to enjoy his hands specifically, long and capable fingers constantly driving her body to distraction. The way they move never fails to makes her belly tighten in the most frightfully delicious way. On more than one occasion this tongue of hers has darted out to lick at her lips and the sudden flood of unexpected hormones never fails to give the Doctor pause.  It's only gotten worse in the past few days. Currently, these eyes of hers are scraping across his forearms, lingering on pulse points and restless fingers. The Doctor is helpless to stop the way her eyes roam, how her gaze settles on his knuckles and veins that run just beneath his skin. River has put those dexterous digits to use, tapping rhythmically against the coffee table, not a care in the world, and the Doctor feels everything go tight as River's body swallows against a dry throat. 

 

He wonders if River is having similar troubles in his body, if the scantily-clad outfit he's chosen has had any effect, if she's noticed that she can't always control where his hazel eyes linger or when his stomach tightens with need. He supposes she'd have to look at him first, which she hasn't. She's been too distracted eating biscuits and reading, basking in the obliviousness his latest regeneration seems to wear like a suit of armor. The Doctor watches with envious eyes as she slips a biscuit into that mouth of his. He's always thought it was quite a thin mouth, attached to a chin that was much too large. But River's body doesn't seem to mind, far too focused on the fingers that lift the treat slowly to his lips. The image of teeth flash in his mind's eye, shivers chasing up River's spine as phantom bites ghost along her neck and thighs.

 

The Doctor pinches River's legs shut, teeth sinking into River's plump lips as he attempts to tame this body he can't control. He forces these eyes to look away, desperately trying not to think on the fact his own fingers are making him, no not him, _River's body_ squirm. He doesn't fancy himself, he silently declares. It's River's body that fancies his. And she fancies him something rotten.

 

Across the table, River lets out a content sigh, tilting his head to the side as she becomes ever-more engrossed in her book. The action makes that floppy fringe of his fall over his eyes and the sight of it makes River's body flood with a different feeling altogether. The Doctor feels how her chest constricts, the warmth of the sun swimming in her veins as her manicured fingers itch to brush it back and scratch at his scalp. It's a tingling sensation he recognizes. It's the same feeling his fingers get he when he boings her curls, and the lingering thought makes him smile, River's soft lips curling with quiet affection. 

 

She seems to be having no such troubles, however. Perfectly still and content, she’s tamed his body’s restless nature. She doesn't notice the way he squirms in her body, immune to his efforts, and he supposes he has only his own biology to blame. River's determination combined with his body's tendency to have a one track mind has made distracting River almost impossible. She stares down at the book she's reading, a strange intensity written across his sharp face. It makes him oddly jealous, her body wanting to be the sole focus of that lean frame’s attentions. In the next moment, River swallows, making the Doctor's Adam's apple bob in his throat and he's helpless to stop the way River's body washes hot and cold all over. Suddenly he sees red and bow ties and handcuffs, removing the cloth from his neck and stuffing it into his mouth as a gag until he stops talking nonsense and those pleading hazel eyes find emerald green ones. He feels River's body shiver as it conjures thoughts of what else his busy little mouth could do and how it could make this body writhe. He isn't sure if it's a memory or a fantasy, but he delights in the knowledge that there's still a bit of assassin in her after all. This body's insides quiver again and it's getting difficult to tell where his consciousness ends and River's body begins.

 

He has to do something before River's body collapses in on itself like a star that's burned too bright. If his body can have this effect on hers, then surely it works both ways. It's time he started fighting back. Taking a moment to catalog all the tricks that make his body give pause, the Doctor glances around the room until green eyes land on his weapon of choice. A devious smirk curls his supple mouth as he stands, making his way to the counter, sashaying River's hips as best he knows how. They do most of the work for him, thank goodness. They really do have a mind of their own. He takes his stand, propping River's hourglass form against the counter, or tries to at least, in a way he’s seen River do a million times before. He snatches up a banana, peeling it slowly before bringing it to River's deliciously red lips. He sinks her teeth into the soft fruit, giving a small moan as he does so, surprising himself with just how wanton and throaty he manages to make her voice sound. And yet, despite his efforts, River hasn’t looked up from her book. The Doctor tries again, licking at the fruit in a rather unholy manner and he knows his former body would go wide eyed and gulp at the sight if only River would _look up._

 

But she doesn't. With a huff, the Doctor tries again, stroking the tip of it around River's lips before inserting it slowly into his mouth in a display that should by all means turn his angular form's cold demeanor into a useless lump of warm butter, but he must get it wrong because-

 

"Sweetie, is everything alright? It's taking you an awfully long time to eat that banana." His own voice fills the air but it flows out in a patronizing cadence that's all River.

 

She still hasn’t even glanced in his direction and the Doctor huffs out a sound that tells of frustration in a colorful variety of forms. But he refuses to surrender. After all, no one knows his body's weakness like he does.  "I was thinking of going  for a swim," he purrs, River's velvet voice rolling off her own tongue in a way that makes the Doctor shiver despite that fact it's River's body he currently inhabits.

 

"If you must," River hums back at him in his own deep voice. "But don’t say I didn't warn you about getting my hair wet."

 

River’s green eyes narrow at his body in a way that’s all too familiar, the Doctor's irritation crinkling her forehead. His stubborn wife hasn't even looked up from her book and even as he glowers, he knows that his own oblivious body is to blame. Taming his growing frustrations, he lets River's honey-coated voice do the talking for him as he proposes, "I was rather hoping you would join me."

 

She finally, blessedly, looks up at him. A fondness that's all River washes over him through his own hazel eyes, and surely she can read her own body like a book, the way she always reads him. Surely she'll see his wanton desperation shinning out of her green eyes. Surely she'll know. River always knows.

 

"Maybe next time," she bargains, standing upright and collecting her things. "I think I'm going to have another look at the interface. I might have found a way to switch us back."

 

The Doctor bites back a groan at that. He wants to be back in his own body, he truly does, and it’s almost certainly River's humany hormones talking, but at the moment he'd rather like to know what it felt like for his body to be inside of him. Just the thought of it has River's pupils blowing wide, and he watches through her hungry eyes as River pilots his body around the table and toward the door. She'd gotten used to his body much faster than he has hers, it seems, because she doesn't stumble or bump into anything. She's even managed to make his hips sway in a way he didn't even know was possible. The Doctor tears River's eyes from his belt buckle, forcing himself to focus as he blurts out a last ditch effort of, "I'll be nude."

 

River pauses, turning that lithe body of his to face him as his own heedless, disinterested voice instructs, “Make sure you take a towel. You'll track water everywhere if you don't. You may look like me but the TARDIS knows it's you and she'll be cross."

 

The Doctor deflates, River's jaw going limp in utter disbelief as a spike of annoyance swirls among the frustration pooling in her abdomen. But River is gone before the Doctor can protest, slipping out into the hallway and taking his body with her. The Doctor lets out a defeated sigh even as River's body protests the growing distance between itself and the object of its desire. The newfound space does little to tame the ache between her legs and he can't help but wonder how many times he's unwittingly walked away from her when all she wanted to do was ravish him. How many times has he sat by blindly while her eyes willed him to ruin her in the most delicious ways. The Doctor shudders to think of all the opportunities he missed because he's just too thick to see what's right in front of him. One things for certain, when he gets his body back, he's going to give it a stern talking to.

 

 

 

X

 

In the end, he skips the pool entirely and opts instead for a painfully cold shower. Even the icy water proves to be of little consequence, doing next to nothing to drown out the ache in River's core. If anything, catching site of all this golden skin on display only makes the Doctor's mind wander. The chilly temperature has made her nipples hard and it takes everything in him not to imagine his own mouth wrapped around them, sucking, biting, flicking his tongue over the sensitive peak. Water droplets collect on her abdomen and slide down the flat plane of her stomach and down into her curls and _god_ , this had been a terrible idea.

 

It hadn't been so bad when he was still getting accustomed to the mechanics of how her body worked, when he kept bumping the hips into things and her unruly curls kept getting in his eyes. The first time he showered in her body, he was too distracted by how inconvenient it all was to notice the little things. Things like how soft her skin is or how the water seems to caress her curves, down her back and over the swell of her hips and bum. This time, however, he'd done everything he could to tempt her into joining him. He'd even attempted to lure her into the confined space by flashing pouty eyes that would usually make her crumble like pastry. But it mustn't have come out quite right through River's sultry gaze because all she'd offered in return was a blasé shrug and impossibly strict instructions on how to wash her hair.

 

He has half a mind not to heed her warnings, to deliberately make her hair extra frizzy and unmanageable in a petty desire for revenge. But River's body twinges at the thought of his lean form all flustered and twitchy. He pictures River's anger and annoyance shinning out of his own eyes. He imagines his own cheeks flushing red, the spark of something dark behind his hazel eyes as his fists clench, and that's all it takes for River's body to flood with warmth in spite of the ice-cold water. She really is a bad, bad girl if her body sings praises just at the thought of his intense gaze. The Doctor makes a mental note to grip her hips a little tighter and nip at her flesh a little harder the next time she lets him see her come undone.

 

Deciding his efforts are fruitless, the Doctor shuts off the tap, sighing as he steps out of the shower and wraps River's curves in a large, cotton towel. Her feet pad across the tile floor in a stroppy way that River never would, and he's about to make for their bedroom when he catches sight of his reflection. River's eyes stare back at him through the glass, damp hair clinging to her shoulders. Her cheeks are flushed and her bronzed skin glistens like some sort of Roman god. She is Venus and Aphrodite and Lady Godiva all rolled into one and he can't say how or when the towel slipped, but it pools on the floor around her feet and the Doctor can't seem to tear his gaze from the mirror.

 

He's seen her curves countless times before; he's run his hands over every glorious inch of her. He's kissed secret places and tasted the sweetness of her skin. It's different, somehow, seeing her through her own eyes. Her eyes linger on scars and the Doctor sees only memories. She focuses on imperfections and the Doctor smiles that soft, sweet smile he reserves only for her. He catches sight of it in the reflection and it's funny how the curl he's put on her lips looks an awful lot like the one River always gives him he taps her on the nose. It might be his favorite thing about her, and, impulsively, he brings River's hand up to stroke along the unique facial feature. River's hands are soft, her nails scratching slightly, and a fleeting thought dances across the back of his mind.

 

He wonders what her hands feel like in other places, and before he knows it, River's hand is traveling down her neck, skipping over her pulse point. He feels it, how her hearts skip at her own touch and he can't help but imagine all the times she's touched herself like this before. He thinks of Stormcage and all the nights she could have laid in her cot and done just this. How many times have these fingers danced across her skin, nails tickling down her chest to cup her own breasts. He wonders if she thought of him, if she pinched at her nipples and imagined his teeth. He wonders if her clever fingers worked at her core, if she curled them inside herself and thought only of him. Her hips surge forward of their own accord and the Doctor wonders just how many times she's thrust at empty air, wishing he were inside her.

 

River's insides scream at him and that alone is confession enough. He watches in the mirror as her small hands cradle her breasts, massaging at her plump flesh. The feel of her breasts under his palms is one he could conjure anywhere, a secret he keeps close to him at all times. It's easy to imagine his own hands now, how his thumb would flick at her nipple, making small circles like promises. He can recall the exact pitch of her gasp as he would sink his teeth into her flesh. In the here and now, he digs River's nails into her own skin and that same sound rolls off this tongue like surrender wrapped in sin.

 

The encouragement makes these hands slip further, smoothing across her stomach, over the curve of her hip where he always plants a delicate kiss. The thought of his mouth on her draws forth another sound, a whimper this time, and once again, the line between his mind and her body blurs like steam on glass. There's a simmer in her wanton belly that can't be ignored and he watches in the mirror as her hand slides down down _down_ until it reaches the patch of curls at her core.

 

What's waiting for him is warm and slick and he reaches for the counter with his free hand, River's knuckles turning white in an effort to keep this body steady. She feels perfect, even to her own fingers. His head is foggy and clearer than it's ever been. He knows just what to touch and when and how. He knows exactly where to press and flick, how to make her squirm, and he wonders why he didn't do this sooner. River's fingers dip between her folds and his knees almost buckle, a soft gasp falling from her parted mouth. He doesn't rely on River's muscle memory for this. He sets to work all on his own, fingers circling her bundle of nerves in that quick rough way he knows makes her legs shake. And they do, quivering and trembling even under the ministrations of her own fingers.  He closes his eyes and his brain is flooded with memories of River beneath him, a gasp on her lips and her nails digging into his shoulders. He opens them again and he sees the reflection, River's glistening skin, chest heaving from ragged breathes. He curls her fingers inside her and spots darken his vision like fireworks behind his eyes. But her fingers aren't as long as his, just as determined, but not as thick, and he finds himself keening, River's soft moans almost pleading as he imagines his own fingers buried inside River's core.

 

It's enough to make her exhausted body clench, pleasure building, hearts pounding and her body is so, so close. His eyes are shut tight, now, seeing nothing but stars and supernovas as the hand bracing him against the counter clutches desperately at River's breast and she's gone.  A gasping moan he's heard so many times spills out from River's lips, and its only when he swallows that he realizes his throat is dry from panting. But it's hard to care as aftershocks of pleasure rip through her body, pulsing around the fingers he's buried inside her.  The orgasm crashes and crescendos and it's almost enough to quell the need humming just beneath this skin.

 

He nearly collapses when he pulls her fingers from her core. The breath in these lungs spills out of River's lips in shaky pants, and the Doctor catches sight of his reflection. River's green eyes stare back at him, pupils blown wide with a hungry gleam that would bring his proper body to its knees. He's helpless but to give her anything she wants when she looks at him like this, when there's a blush to her cheeks that’s anything but innocent. Just thinking about it has put hot coals back in this belly of hers, and he can't help but wonder if it's because the idea of being at her mercy makes him weak or if it's River's body that relishes the idea of making him her slave.

 

Another flush of need radiates out from River's core and he's about to set these fingers to work once again when he hears the distinct sound of their bedroom door closing. Hands snapping away from that tempting patch of curls, the Doctor scrambles for the robe hanging on the back of the door. Tossing it around River's form and tying a loose bow, he pulls the door open, peaking into the room beyond. He's met with the site of himself, shirtless as River rummages through his side of the closet. His shoulders are broad and shapely and River's eyes drink in the way his muscles flex, following the path of his spine until they settle on his own narrow hips. He shifts River's body, legs pinching closed and arms folding across her supple chest as he leans against the door.

 

"Looking for something?" he asks, but this throat must still be scratchy from sucking in ragged breathes because River's husky voice fills the small room like an airborne aphrodisiac.

 

His body doesn't notice, of course, because River hums back at him in his own gruff voice. "The TARDIS spat oil on me," River scoffs, propping an indignant hand on his hips, and the Doctor bites back a smirk at the ridiculous picture his body paints.

 

"She does that," the Doctor nods in understanding, River's damp curls tickling her cheeks.

 

"Well, not to _me_ ," River huffs out, clearly not amused or accustomed to a lack of preferential treatment. The Doctor can't help but snort, biting back a smile as River's cheeks threaten to curl. It's enough to make her finally look at him, hazel eyes glaring at him in a way only River can manage. But they soften almost instantly, and the Doctor wonders if that's his body taking over, his hearts swelling at the sight of a nearly naked River gracing him with a smile.

 

"How was your shower?" she asks, softer this time, and the Doctor hopes River hasn't noticed just how flushed and bothered her body is.

 

The Doctor clears River's throat, brushing back her curls and looking away to hide the blush creeping up these cheeks. "'S good," he manages, and he doesn't miss how River pinches his brow in confusion. But she doesn't press, dismissing the curiosity with a shrug as she turns his body back to the wardrobe.

 

"I must admit," she hum, effortlessly reaching for something off the top shelf. "It's nice to be tall enough to reach things without heels."

 

The Doctor grumbles to himself even as River's eyes devour the way his body stretches. A lack of suspenders has the skin-tight jeans River's dressed him in sitting low on his hips, the lines of which form a v that makes River's gaze travel to the button of his trousers. The Doctor swallows hard, fighting the way River's tongue longs to lick at her red lips. He keeps her jaw clenched and it only seems to make her teeth all the more eager to sink into that sensitive skin of his. He's been on the receiving end of her nips before, the way her teeth scrape across his hips bones has always been enough to make him arch into her touch. He loses himself in the memory of it now, as eager for her teasing touch as River's body is to give it.

 

He's so caught up in the fantasy he almost misses when River speaks, the sound of his voice light and satirical as she says, "You really do have horrid taste in clothes, my love."

 

The Doctor snaps out of his daydreams in time to see River brandishing an offensively colorful coat. “As if you can judge!" he protests, River's voice cracking at the airwaves. "Have you seen your wardrobe? It's all corsets and harnesses and latex tops with slits down to the navel."

 

River chuckles back at him, a deep and rumbling sound that he wasn't aware his body could make. "That wasn't a top."

 

Confusions crinkles River's brow as the Doctor recalls the object in question and the distinct V that looked as if it showed off an illegal amount of cleavage. "But it's got a slip up the front," he protests and River smirks at him over his shoulder, winking.

 

"I know." It's her smirk on his lips and he hasn't the foggiest idea what she means, but he feels River's green eyes widen, caught between horrified and aroused.

 

“Now this on the other hand,” she begins, dropping one garment in favor of another. His hazel eyes appraise a long, Victorian looking coat. The look she's put on his face is almost hungry and he wonders if she's picturing his former self, the one with the floofy hair and a penchant for cravats. He doesn't wonder for long because in the next breath his voice is purring out, "You definitely looked delicious in this."

 

It's odd, seeing that look on his face while he's thinking of himself. It's even more perplexing to hear his own voice dip that low, but River's body hums like a string that's been plucked just right.

 

"The face that came after wasn't bad either. I do love a man in leather. Too bad about the hair though," she sighs wistfully. "A girl likes something to hold onto." His eyes sparkle once again as River adds, "Pretty boy had lovely hair." 

 

His arms have never felt so cross, and he's certain River's body looks every bit as pouty as he feels, but he can't rightly care. He wonders how her body reacted to the other faces he's worn, if she'd have liked another him more, the one with the bad boy attitude and nonexistent blush. Or perhaps the smooth talker with the face everyone loved to kiss, and he can't help but grumble.

 

"Now, now, don't get jealous of yourself, sweetie," River scolds him with his own tongue. "It's you I love. Not the face."

 

"Is that so?"

 

"Of course it is," she says offhandedly, dismissive.

 

But the Doctor sets River's shoulders, voice stern and brow arched as he challenges, "Prove it."

 

River turns his own sharp features on him, curious and confused for half a moment before hazel eyes that once belonged to him narrow and focus on River's body. He can't help the way her body fidgets under such scrutiny. He feels it like a brand as River drags her gaze over her own body, scorching a path from the tips of her hair to her own toes. There's an intensity only River could manage written in the angels of his face, and she must recognize the flush of her own skin because she brightens behind his eyes, a mischievous smile curling his lips.

 

 "You're turned on by this, aren't you?"

 

"River!" the Doctor squeaks, hitting an octave he wasn't aware River's come-hither voice could reach. He feels her cheeks flush with scandal, as if someone could hear them.

 

River throws his head back and laughs, and it's too wicked, too filthy for his baby face. "Why didn't you say?"

 

"I tried!" the Doctor argues, flailing River's arms. "You're very one-track-minded."

 

River frowns, his features pinching into a pout. "Not typically. Must be your body." 

 

She slinks toward him, his narrow hips swaying in a way that traps the breath in River's lungs. The Doctor watches as his own form all but pins him against the doorway. He swallows hard because it's all River looking down at him as she uses his fingers to skate along her body's arms. It's barely any touch at all but the Doctor can't suppress the way River's body shivers, so starved for the feel of his lightly-calloused fingers that even the slightest contact causes it to tingle and tighten. His mind is no better, having been pushed to the breaking point by being surrounded by all this  _River._ River that he couldn't kiss or caress or bury his face in. He could touch, did touch, had enjoyed touching in fact, but it wasn't the same. Nothing quite compares to the ecstasy of his hands on her body.

 

"Let me make it up to you," River whispers, making his voice husky with promise. "Nobody knows my body like me." 

 

River's eyes darken, or rather, his hazel ones do. But it's all River shining out of them. Mischief without mercy and the sight of it is almost enough to make River's body whimper. She drags his hands over her shoulders and up her neck to cup the sides of her face, fingers scratching lightly at her scalp. The Doctor feels himself purr, melting into the touch of his own hands, large and framing River's face like she's the most precious thing in the world.

 

"I should have known my body would be struggling. It always does around you." She removes his hands from her face to trail down her neck and sternum. River's skin sings at the feather-light touch, and when his calloused fingers reach the knot holding the robe together, River wraps his fingers around the tie and pulls. The material falls away, exposing River's stomach. Cold air hits her skin and the Doctor burns hot all over. River looks up, and the Doctor finds himself staring into his own hungry eyes as River breathes, "It never knows when it can ravish you or not."

 

The Doctor gulps, this delicate throat tightening because it's true. Her muscles are taut, like they’re fighting against something forbidden, like her fingers don’t yet know if she can card through that ridiculous hair of his. River gives her body the answers it seeks, running his pale hands under the robe and over golden skin. She closes the distance between them, bringing his lips to her own throat, where she plants soft, teasing kisses, and - _oh_. He should have said something sooner. Of course River would be interested in this, of course she'd take any chance she could to put him at her mercy, of course she'd want to show him all the delicious ways she can make her own body squirm. 

 

"River," the Doctor pleads, and it sounds like _yes, honey, ravish me, please,_ and the needy sound of her own name on her tongue must thrill her because the grip she has on her own waist tightens, pressing her body into the wall. It's cold and hard against the supple curves he inhabits, and he relishes the way her back flattens against the unforgiving surface, head thumping back, exposing River's throat.

 

"I've got you, sweetie," she promises, like she knows her own body has gone weak in the knees. She drops his voice low like she knows the sound of it makes her insides coil. She knows just where to touch and tease, and none too gently, she runs one of his large hands over her ribs, fingertips tracing the underside of her breast before making torturous circles around her nipples.

 

The Doctor whimpers, arching River's chest into those talented fingers. River’s hands have a mind of their own, smoothing up and down the expanse of the Doctor’s broad shoulders. Her nails scratch and kneed, coercing that lithe body closer and the Doctor shuts these green eyes and loses himself to the feel of skin on skin.

 

River dips his head, nipping at her collarbone and down her chest until that mouth of his is hovering just above her nipples. “Is this what you’ve been wanting?” she asks and his own deep voice cascades over him like honey until her body feels warm and sticky and sweet and eager for that mouth of his to latch onto her sensitive peak.

 

“Yes, River, _please_ ,” he begs and River teases him with his own lips, a sweet caress on her nipples before his tongue snakes out and makes a long, slow drag across the hardened nub.

 

The Doctor groans, an unholy noise on River’s lips as her body takes over, hands fisting in his brown hair and tugging that baby face into River’s chest. She smirks against her own flesh, but she obeys, wrapping his lips around her nipple and sucking. She sinks his teeth into her own skin so hard the Doctor can’t help but cry out, a strangled sound that begs for more. River grants his wish, exploring her own body, using his hands to ghost over her own hips. The Doctor presses her body toward his hand as River runs his fingers down through her curls. River groans at the feel of her body’s wetness, stroking her folds in all the ways she loves most. His calloused fingers are rough and gentle and determined and teasing all at once and The Doctor curls River’s hands around his own broad shoulders in an effort to keep from collapsing because it’s just _so good._ Even better than he imagined it to be when he’d watched himself in the mirror. 

 

River chuckles, a dark sound coming from the throat that used to be his. She must feel the evidence of pleasure inside her own core, must notice how her insides still pulse and clench because River asks, “Have you been naughty without me, my love?”

 

River’s eyes shut even tighter at the wicked sound of his body’s husky voice. He wants to confess just how naughty he’s been, how he brought her body to orgasm thinking of exactly this. He wants to tell her that he’s been bad just so she can feel the way his body’s insides clenches at the very thought. But all he can manage is a fragile, breathy, “Couldn’t help it.” He swallows hard, voice dry and guilty, confessions falling from River’s lips. “Is it always this bad, the urges?”

 

That rumbling sound is back and River lifts his mouth to the shell of her ear to whisper, “Only when I’m around you.”

 

It nearly reduces him to a puddle and he can’t tell if it’s her body reacting to the sound of his voice or if it’s the knowledge that he’s the one to do this to her body. All along he’s had this power over her and he didn’t even know it.  He turns River’s chin, lips finding the sharp line of his jaw, where he plants a single kiss and whispers the words she already knows. “I need you,” he confesses and such a breathless, begging tone has never before been on River’s lips.

 

River must enjoy the sound of her own pleading because she growls as she sinks his teeth into her throat, leaving the Doctor no choice but to moan. She cups her breasts with one of his large hands while the other probes into her core and there are those stars again, bright lights behind his eyes and white hot heat radiating from the belly of this curvy body. The Doctor fists River’s hands into brown locks, wrapping River’s thigh around his waist, this body demanding more. River complies without question, rolling hardened nipples between his knuckles as his other fingers curl inside her. She leans ever forward, pressing his frame into her further, seeking the friction his body must be aching for. She does terrible, beautiful, unspeakable things to him when they're like this, when her body is flush against his and he can run his hands over her skin, her wants written on her body like brail. River's always been able to turn his body inside out. She made him feel things he didn't know his body was capable of. She made it want, to kiss, to touch. She made it want to bite and clutch, and bury deep inside her. She made him beg for things like mercy and he wonders if River feels all those things, too, now that she's trapped inside his skin. He wonders if she can feel the way his body burns like a star being born.

 

She ruts his body against hers, an answer to his unspoken question. The Doctor feels his body’s erection press against River’s inner thigh like a promise. It’s enough to make him shiver in anticipation. He snakes one of River’s clever hands between them in a desperate attempt to wrap around his length. The angle is wrong and the jeans are too tight and all he can manage is to slip two fingers below the waistband. He finds only skin, no boxers or under garments of any kind and when he looks up at himself, River offers nothing but an unapologetic shrug. She’s incorrigible, even in his body and the knowledge that she’s been parading around like this all day only makes River’s body tighten with need, clenching around the fingers inside its core.

 

River uses his thumb to toy with her bundle of nerves, making her hips buck in ways he can’t control. He wants more. He wants to know what it’s like to come around his own fingers. He wants River growling and panting in his ear. He wants to know what it feels like to be gloriously, achingly full. He wants to feel the weight of his angled body pressing her further and further into the bed with every thrust.

 

He just wants.

 

Glorious fantasies fly through his mind and he realizes that before he comes undone, there’s something he wants to try.

 

“River,” he pants, but it falls off her tongue in a way that sounds  more like a prayer than a protest. “River, wait,” he tries again, and it takes an unholy amount of strength to fist River’s fingers into his hair and pull that mouth away from her neck.

 

Hazel eyes are blown wide with lust and need, confusion furrowing his brow as River slips his hand out from between her thighs and asks, “Something wrong? Is this not what you-“

 

The Doctor silences his own mouth with a kiss, lowering River’s leg and pushing at his chest. Her body is stronger than his and it proves easy enough to push away his lanky form. His body obeys, releasing River’s body from where it had been pressed against the wall. Taking control must be in her blood because he can taste the adrenaline as it pumps through River’s veins as he wraps one of her hands around his body’s wrist and beings hauling River toward the bed.

 

He wastes no time with teasing kisses, too desperate to do anything but shove that lean body of his onto the mattress. River falls to the bed willingly and with a grace the Doctor has never quite managed. But there’s no time to be envious of how she somehow drives his body as well as his ship better than he can, because the moment River hits the bed the Doctor is ridding this curvy form from the confines of the robe. He must look wanton and hungry because River stares back at him, surprise written on his sharp features as the Doctor uses River's body to prowl forward, closing the distance between them. He positions River’s hips directly above his own, hands fisting in his own hair as he grinds down into rough denim just to appease the ache in River’s core.

 

River wraps his wiry arms around her small waist and tugs, trying to flip them and pin her body once again. But the Doctor’s having none of it, planting River’s knees firmly in the bed, refusing to be controlled. River moans into her own mouth at that and the Doctor can’t tell if her wanton whines are because she loves it when he takes control or if she’s wishing she could be the one to make his body give gruff commands.

 

He doesn't give River time to plan a clever escape. He pins his own body down by its shoulders. And maybe it’s just the natural way River's body moves, or maybe it’s his own desperation, but whatever the reason, he’s using River’s clever fingers to claw the clothing off his own body. The button of the jeans surrenders without question and her greedy fingers slide under the band yanking them off and tossing them as far away as he can. And not just because he hates the site of them on his body.

 

“Sweetie,” River pants, his breathless voice gruff and delighted. “I never knew you had it in you.”

 

Green eyes linger on his own erection and, “There are lots of things I’ve never had in me,” he quips, blushing at his own forwardness. He blames River’s tongue entirely but he doesn’t regret a thing because River swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

 

Before he knows it, he’s taking charge, crawling down his own body, kissing and sucking and licking in that way he's felt River do a million times before. He uses River's swollen lips to plant a kiss to each peck, one for his sternum, and another on his belly as he uses River's nails to scratch lightly along his sides. His body shudders, goose bumps prickling the skin under River's lips as he presses more kisses between his body's protruding hip bones. It doesn’t escape him how River’s partially Time Lord tongue can taste the arousal on his skin.  His thoughts wander to what other parts of him taste like and as he sinks between his own thighs, River’s lips are drawn to his skin by some magnetic pull.

 

Above him, River gasps, but she doesn’t stop him, doesn’t offer feeble protests or claim that he doesn’t have to. All she does is part his lips and sigh, “Loving this side of you, darling.”

 

“Your body’s fault, dear,” he mutters into his skin and River answers him with a dark chuckle.

 

“Well in that case, remind me to thank me later.”

 

The sound of his own voice is distracting to River's body and he’s trying to focus, but River can’t help but get the last word in and he wonders if it’s because his tongue really does just never know when to hush. He nips at a particularly sensitive spot on his inner thigh, demanding she be silent and River’s laugh quickly melts into a groan. He rewards the sound by employing one of River’s fingertips to circle and scratch at his nipples. He knows what his body likes, mostly thanks to River. But there are a few things he learned himself, on the lonely nights without her when he'd use his hand as a poor replacement for the warmth of River's core or the wetness of her mouth. River always did have a talented mouth, stopping his hearts and bringing him to his knees in more ways and places than he can count. He imagines those same red lips on him now and a spark shoots through this body. He wonders if it originated in River's body or if it came from his own thoughts. He wonders if these lips and tongue crave to wrap around him as much as his length desires to be surrounded by her.

 

In the name of investigation, he wraps River's small, capable hand around his body's erection, pumping twice before twisting his wrist  _just so_  and swiping a thumb across the head, wiping away the moisture building there. River gasps, and the Doctor watches as his own mouth falls open, hands gripping the sheets. Another pang of lust shoots through the curvy body he inhabits, River's core flexing at the sight of his lean body spread out before her, wanton, needy, and panting.

 

"Sweetie," River sighs, the endearment foreign in his voice and yet achingly familiar. That title means so many things, but right now, in this moment, it means  _please_. Now he knows why River always likes to make him beg, his body looks rather delicious when it's stretched tight and nearly pushed to the breaking point. If River were in her own body, she'd continue to torture him, scratching at his thighs and peppering kisses everywhere except where he wants her. She'd drive him mad with flicks of her tongue and breaths of hot air on his sensitive skin.

 

Luckily for her, he has no such patience, so he dips his head low, River's curls obscuring his vision as he takes in the sight of his own erection. It's different from this angle, long and smooth and proud and twitching in anticipation. River's lips part and he finds his mouth is watering and a new type of wetness is pooling between River's thighs. Curiously, he slips River's tongue out from between her lips, running from shaft to tip. Salt and lust and time burst across River's tongue, and he finds these thighs are suddenly sticky, her center ready and waiting for his length to be sheathed inside. 

 

Above him, River whines, still fisting his hands tight in the sheets as she tries to be patient. The Doctor does his best to ignore the needs of River's body, focusing entirely on the squirming form before him. He flicks River's tongue out again, teasingly running along the tip as he delights in the way River seems helpless but to lift his hips toward her own mouth. The Doctor does it again, giggling slightly in a way River never would. She opens his eyes, glaring at him in the  _exact_  way River would. 

 

The stare of the Oncoming Storm is even more terrifying when it’s River shinning out of his eyes and the Doctor gulps, River’s throat swallowing down a mixture of adrenaline and lust. He offers his apology by way of pressing a kiss to the head of his length before parting River's lips and taking himself into her mouth. River gasps for breath as the Doctor slowly sinks downward, taking himself in. It's difficult to get the hang of at first, but River's tongue knows instinctively what to do, swirling around the tip of him as her mouth bobs up and down, up and down and River is fisting at the cushions, hips thrusting gently upward, up up _up_ until his body is shaking with pleasure.

 

The Doctor groans, a wicked sound that could only come from River’s throat because his mind is flooded with erotic memories. He’s all too familiar with this part. He knows what it feels like to have River’s mouth working him over, to have her sweet lips wrapped around him, to have her hum and feel the vibrations rip through his body like bolts of lightning. He scrapes River’s nails down his stomach as he works magic with her mouth. Claw marks stain his pale chest but River arches his back into the delicious torture like he knew his body would, like she needs the sting of nails on flesh to survive. The Doctor employs those same nails to scrape down his thighs and tickle in secret places and River sucks in a gasp through his panting mouth.

 

His body is close, he can tell by the way his eyes have fallen shut and his lips have parted. It’s the face River always wears when she’s teetering on the brink of ecstasy. She fists his hands in the sheets and the Doctor pumps faster and she’s building building _building_ until a quivering moan rips from between his lips. River sings just like herself, even in his body. When she comes, the release of his body floods River's mouth. The Doctor sucks hungrily, lapping up the last bits before releasing with a wet pop. He can feel how River’s lips have become reddened and swollen from friction, and he licks at them with her tongue, gathering any drops of his body’s release that might linger there. Before him, River shivers at the cold air hitting such over-sensitive skin. The Doctor watches River through the mask of his own face, lost in the aftershocks of ecstasy. She's gorgeous, her trademark soft, satisfied smile tugging his lips and the flutter of her eyes behind his lashes.

 

When River finally comes back down, she finds the Doctor staring at her with the same amount of awe he always does, and she offers him a sweet smile before dragging him up for a kiss. River invades her own mouth, licking at her own tongue and teeth and every corner of her cheeks like she's desperate to taste his release in her mouth. River flips them, executing a remarkable level of savvy that extends to any body she inhabits, apparently. She pushes him down, pinning her body to the mattress with the Doctor’s wiry arms before flashing a grin and resting the full weight of his body on top of hers. All his sharp angles press into her curves, lining them up deliciously. River's body finds it oddly intoxicating to be held prisoner by his lean frame. It's something he hadn't expected from a woman whose fought for freedom her entire life. But there's no denying the way her hearts flutter, comforted and safe, under the weight of him. It's trust, he realizes, unwavering trust from this woman who had once trusted nothing and no one, not even herself. 

 

She presses his lips to her neck, lingering over the sensitive skin like she knows, like she's letting him bask in the way her hearts swell with affection, like his is the only soul in the universe capable of filling her with unquenchable desire and overwhelming happiness. The lingering kisses continue, her pulse point, under her jaw, behind her ear, peppering a path along her most sensitive areas until the Doctor feels River's body swell with something besides affection. A fire is starting between her sticky thighs, just beginning to lick at her insides and spread out from her core. River continues her assault on her own neck, and the Doctor arches into it because it feels impossibly good, his body's lips pressed into River's skin. His stubble scratches at the sensitive flesh of her throat, ushering forth goosebumps. The kisses soon turn to nibbles and bites and merciless sucking on her pulse point. She uses his hands to glide across her body, circling her nipples before pinching hard. It's tender and rough and desperate and deliberately maddening and all things they both know River's body enjoys. 

 

She moves his mouth across her collar bone, tracing it with his tongue before closing his teeth and biting down hard. Harder than the Doctor normally would, in fact, and he's shocked to feel how River's body tingles in response, how her stomach tightens and her back arches as more wetness floods between her thighs. Those teeth move down to her breasts, cupping it with one of his large hands as she rakes her own nipple between his teeth. The other hand has wandered south, swirling teasing circles around her hip bones. She uses his fingers to spell out filthy words and sinful promises he hopes to god she will keep. The Doctor lets River's thighs fall open in anticipation, wanting, needing to be touched. River takes mercy on him, slipping his fingers between her legs and sliding along the moisture there. At the feel of the wet heat between her own thighs, River's grip on her own breast tightens, nipping at the nipple and groaning like she just can't help herself. The Doctor gasps at the sharp contact of teeth and the teasing pressure of such large, longer fingers hovering directly above where he wants them.

 

She doesn't enter though, in fact she removes her fingers entirely, lifting them to his lips and tasting herself with his tongue. River shudders, his eyes falling closed. The Doctor's mouth goes dry with jealousy as he watches River suck on his fingers. That's his job, to taste her sweetness and delight in how she busts across his tongue like firecrackers and ecstasy. When River opens his hazel eyes, she must notice the wanton look on her own face because his mouth curls into a smirk as she leans forward to trace her own ruby lips with his fingers, letting the Doctor taste the juices from his current body. She's delicious, even to her own mouth and he can't help the way images of two Rivers flood his brain, him in her body and a future River. With their shared knowledge of her body and all that gold skin and soft curves, the possibilities are endless. 

 

He's shaken from his fantasy by another sharp nip, this one on his hip bone. River's ribs and belly are speckled with love bites and cooling saliva from wet, teasing kissing. The Doctor whimpers, his need only made worse at the sound of River's needy voice. He pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, fearing that any further moans from these lips will send him over the edge too soon. River continues on her teasing path, digging the pads of his fingers into her skin and scraping them down her thighs as she presses a fleeting kiss to her core. It makes River's body buck, hips rising in search of more. 

 

River tuts at him in his own voice.  "Turn about's fair play, darling."

 

His own eyes are dark and mischievous as River uses his voice like a goddamn weapon against her own body. She talks in detail about what she's doing and what she'd like to do. She lists things she knows her body enjoys and how it makes her feel when he presses his lips  _here_  and strokes her  _there_  and scrapes his teeth along the sensitive skin just above her - _oh._  River's body gives a shudder, hips jerking in a way he can't control, and he looks wide eyed down at River, panting, "What was that?" 

 

"That was just the beginning," she smirks, his mouth curling in a dangerous way that only makes River's body coil tighter.  River's insides seem to delight at the mischievous glint in his body's hazel eyes, that dangerous smile that's more of a promise than a threat. The Doctor flops back against the pillows, River's wild hair fanned out beside him, resigning himself to a death by foreplay. 

 

She presses his mouth to her own core, latching around her clit, and the Doctor convulses, hands flying up to grasp River any way he can. He feels as if he's been electrocuted and set on fire as River curls and strokes his fingers against her core in subtle ways, perfectly in tune with the magic she's performing with his tongue. The Doctor's vision has begun to darken, breaths deepening until River's breasts are heaving. Her body is close. He knows because he's seen it shake like this a million times before, seen it arch and pant and moan and scream and beg for  _more, Sweetie, more_. But right now he  _feels_  it. The thighs trembling are his and those moans are coming from him and it's the hands he controls that are helpless but to clutch at River's breasts, roughly pinching at her nipples until expletives he didn't know he knew are tumbling from between her lips. 

 

River is merciless as she works her own body, driving him to the breaking point over and over before pulling away. She holds her body on the brink, one clever lick shy of tumbling over the edge. She knows her body well, too well. The Doctor wonders if she's done this to a woman before, or possibly to herself. The thought sends a spark of both envy and lust shooting through him. He'll have to remember to ask her later, but right now he's far too focused on the filthy, clever way River uses his tongue to probe at her own core. He digs River's nails deeper into any skin he can find, arching and thrusting into that wicked mouth, and it's only when he hears River chuckle, a dark rumble from between these needy thighs, that the Doctor realizes he's begging. His gasping pants are little more than choked noises in the back of River's delicate throat, words like _yes_ and _there_ and _more_ and _River please_ tumbling out in little whimpers.

 

She grants her mercy in the form of a long slow lick, a scrape of teeth, and curling fingers. The Doctor feels River's body go hot and cold all over. Her thighs are trembling, chest heaving, and he's arching forward, River's desperate fingers pawing at his own shoulders. They fist in brown locks, holding that mouth in place. He feels River smirk, his lips curling against her core. She lifts his free hand up to her own breast, pinching her own nipple between calloused fingers. Something white and hot rips through River's body and the Doctor chokes on a sound that's pleasure and pain and the sweet, sweet flood of release. Her body pulses around the fingers inside it as her chest shivers and her thighs shake as orgasm washes over him in waves. Behind his eyes he's sees the forming of planets, the ebb and flow of magma as it sloshes and recedes against rocks. His head is spinning like a planet too close to a star, a rhythmic and relentless orbit with no end in sight. It's a force more powerful than anything he's ever felt, and this body is still spasming against his will and beyond his controls when he feels hard angles press into soft curves.

 

When he comes back down, River is above him. His own hazel eyes are looking down at him as these green ones are cloudy with lust. River drops kisses like anchors all over him and the next thing he knows, his own husky voice is telling him to, "Get on your knees."

 

A mirth that's all River stares back at him and the Doctor struggles to comply, to fight his way out of the fog of ecstasy. River helps him, as his talented wife always does, helping him sit upright and guiding her own body into position. Calloused fingertips trail down River's spine and the Doctor shivers at the goosebumps that follow in the wake of his own fingers. River hums what ought to be a soothing sound, but on his lips it rumbles like thunder. The sound is dark and husky and it makes River's insides clench in unholy ways. It isn't until a large hand as settled on River's backside, until his own length is pressed up against River's thighs that the Doctor realizes what his wicked wife is about to do. She drags his fingers over her core, making small, teasing circles around her entrance and the Doctor whines, thrusting River's hips back into his hand.

 

"Someone's eager," she teases in his rumbling voice.

 

"Your body," he quips, looking at her over her shoulder and wiggling her hips in a way he knows his body finds distracting.

 

"Yes, it is," his wife purrs, admiring her own arse with his hazel eyes.

 

 "Stop admiring yourself and-"

 

The protest dies on these red lips as River brings his hand down for a hard slap. His palm connects with her backside and the sound of flesh on flesh cracks at the air like a whip. River's body bursts to life, every nerve ending sparking like stars in a night sky. Heat snakes through this body like northern lights and the arms that support him threaten to buckle, elbows shaking against a sharp current of pleasure.

 

"You were saying?" River quips, smoothing his palm over the red print no doubt marking River's backside.

 

He whimpers in response and he can't be sure if it's River's body's way of apologizing or if that's how it begs for another stinging collision of fingers on flesh.

 

"Finally found a way to shut you up, have I?" River chuckles, the sound rumbling in his former chest like thunder. She brings his lips to the palm print on her own backside, planting a kiss before whispering, "That's my body for you, always in need of a good spanking."

 

The sound of his own voice makes River's body shiver, and he fights past the haze of lust licking at the insides of her body to pant out, "And my body loves to give them to you."

 

River must feel the same effects of her own voice in his body because her grip on her own hips tightens. The Doctor can practically feel the lightning that's shooting through his scrawny frame. He can't see the expression written on the sharp angels of his baby face, but he knows those hazel eyes will be blown wide. He knows how River's bare skin makes him squirm. He knows that the sight of River's body on all fours before him must be making his cock twitch.

 

The press of fingers on River's clit is enough to drag him away from images of his own body and cement him firmly in this one. This body is still sensitive and swollen and River must feel how her hips convulse because she ghosts his fingers around herself like she's teasing her bundle of nerves back to life. "What else does this body love to do to mine?"

 

River's question falls out of his mouth, tone low and loaded, and the Doctor gulps as he answers, "It loves to bury fingers in your hair."

 

Without hesitation, River does just that, skimming his fingers up her spine until they can fist in her own mess of curls. "And?"

 

The Doctor shivers as the faintest scratch of nails prick at River's scalp. He leans into the fingers now wrapped around her hair and answers, "I like to tug until I can see your face, until your lips fall open and I can see the way your gasps catch in your throat." River obeys the instructions like commandments, tangling and tugging until it's almost hard to swallow, until her own body is strung tight before her.

 

"And does it like to tease me?" River asks, guiding his length to her entrance, running the tip of him along her folds, not quite penetrating.

 

The Doctor moans, a needy plea on River's lips because the press of his erection on River's core is quite possibly the most delicious torture he's ever felt. "Not as much as it likes to fuck you."

 

River gives an involuntary thrust, his narrow hips surging forward just as he knew they would, and River's grip on her own hair tightens. His body loves it when her lips curse at him. It loves it when she takes, when she's unapologetic in her wants. He loves that she's a glutton for his touch, and the Doctor seeks revenge in the only way he can. He lets River's body take over, wiggling her hips against the erection teasing its core. The action makes his body sink ever so slightly deeper into hers and, behind him, River groans. The sound of such a gruff, wanting noise makes a smirk bloom on River's full mouth, and the Doctor can't help but think her body is a frightfully naughty influence on him.

 

It seems his body has had an equal effect on River because she's helpless but to give her body what it wants. All thoughts are banished from the Doctor's mind when River presses forward, filling her body with his length. " _Oh_ ," tumbles off River's lips in a guttural moan, leaving the Doctor aching with a sudden fullness. River leans over the back of him, draping his form over hers, his sharp edges pressing into her soft curves. He hadn't told her, but he loves to do this too, to pound into her until she finds her release, to cradle and surround her as he fills her. He lives for the feeling of holding her close, of tethering her to something solid and safe as she floats on the bliss of pleasure. River drapes his body over hers on instinct, bringing one of his hands around to cup her breasts, lips planting a kiss on her shoulder blade. The Doctor doesn't miss how it makes River's hearts flutter, his body a blanket over hers, as their insides become one.

 

The sensation is quickly forgotten as River shifts his hips back only to push forward once more. The Doctor moans again, the sound rewarded by the feel of calloused fingers pinching at River's nipple. The Doctor hisses then, silenced by his wife as she hushes and soothes him in his own voice. She pulls his length from her again, plunging back inside faster this time and the Doctor feels River's insides clench. River must feel it too because she snaps his hips faster, harder, again and again until moan after moan is ripped from him, falling out of River's swollen lips. River's nerves are on fire, this body burning from the inside out, pulled in every direction by pleasure and pain. And before he knows it, he's thrusting back to meet the sharp angles of his own hips.

 

His length is buried deep, deeper than he ever thought he could be in River’s body. River thrusts his hips again, hitting a place that makes the Doctor's vision go black. The stars are back behind his eyes, fog in his brain, and he never knew just how much River's body enjoyed this, being on her knees before him, his teeth on her shoulder blade, his hands tanged in her hair. His body is behind hers and above hers, his hands on her breasts or her bundle of nerves and he never knew how good it felt to be so full. This body feels as if it's going to implode and explode all in the same moment, every synapse firing, and it's a bit overwhelming, being fucked like this. Behind him, River thrusts into her own body again and again, using two of his fingers to make deliberate circles around her oversensitive clit.

 

It burns in the most beautiful way, and he understands now, why she screams when she comes undone.

 

Until now he only knew what it was to be surrounded by her. Now he knows what it is to be her. Making love to her is glorious, surrounded by her warmth and love and wetness, but being filled is something else entirely.  Behind him, River must be having a similar revelation because she's gasping and panting, the lips that used to be his own spilling expletives as if everything within her is just begging to get out, centering around the places their bodies meet. His body must be on the brink because she's pounding into her own core like it's the only way to heaven. Sinful little pleas like _fuck_ and _hell_ and _god sweetie_ catch in her throat and escape in needy groans that are all too familiar to these ears, even if they're formed on a different tongue. 

 

"Wait," the Doctor pants, and it sounds feeble even to him, but River hears him, slowing the haphazard way she thrusts his body into hers.

 

"What is it, my love?"

 

"See you," is all he manages to pant, but River understands. She knows just what he wants, that he needs to be able to look into her eyes, to see her as they come undone. In the next moment she's slipping his length out of her body and lying next to him on the bed. The loss leaves him feeling empty and unsated. The Doctor searches her out, glancing beside him on the bed to find his pale chest is shimmering with sweat, his breathing heavy. River's eyes travel down his body of their own accord, admiring all the things he hates most about himself, as if she really does see the best in him, even if he doesn't always deserve it.

 

He brushes the thought away, throwing one of River's legs over those narrow hips and sinking downward. Wiry arms wrap around these curves, pulling her body close to his own lithe frame. He's straddling his own body, River's breasts pressings into his pale chest and the Doctor swears he can feel his own hearts beat in tune with River's. River must feel it too, the pounding of her hearts in sync with the body she currently inhabits, because she spares him a smile, soft and sweet and _her_ even though it's on his lips. The moment is lost as quickly as it had been found as River places his hands on her own hips, guiding them downwards until his length finds her body's entrance.

 

The Doctor gasps, the sound of it catching in River's throat. Green eyes meet hazel ones and he swears he could drown in the way they breathe each other in. These lungs are full and this core is aching, wanting, needing. River thrust his hips up, the tip of him pressing into her own core and they both groan. She's teasing him with his own body and the Doctor shifts, trying to take his erection into River's core. She doesn't let him though. Those pale fingers have a bruising grip on her hips and the Doctor keens, digging River's nails into his own shoulder blades.

 

"Say it," she demands, and his own voice lights a fire deep in River's belly. The husky sound settles inside her, making her legs clench and her muscles coil.

 

It isn't the first time she's made him beg. He's used to being at her mercy, to flashing her pleading eyes and softly whispering his need. But River's body has never been one to be gentle. It's shameless where his would blush and maybe that's why the words, "Fuck me," flow easily off this tongue.

 

Hazel eyes darken instantly, surprised and delighted by his filthy tongue. She rewards his brazen mouth by giving him what he wants. She tightens the grip his hands have on her hips, slamming them down until his body is sheathed inside her. They moan in the same pitch, guttural and wicked. The Doctor's head lolls back from the bliss of it, exposing River's throat. Teeth find her neck almost instantly, River nipping at growling at her own skin. She's in control, using his strong hands and long fingers to steady her own hips, showing the Doctor how to move her body over his. He follows the rhythm she sets without question, rolling River's hips in a way that strikes that most secret and delicious place with every thrust. Moans fall off River's lips without his consent, and beneath him, River curses.

 

This curvy body thrills at the sounds of swears dancing on his Time Lord tongue, but it's nothing compared to the way it melts at the words, "That's it, honey, come for me." River pants, the hot breath of his mouth ghosting over River's breasts and sternum. The sound of his own voice settles in River's belly like lead. It feels like knowledge and sin, hot and heavy, and as red as an apple in Eden.

 

He sinks teeth into River's bottom lip, nails digging into his pale shoulders just to hang on. He knows when he gets his body back he’ll feel these claw marks on his skin, tallies like brands. He digs her nails a little deeper just at the thought and River hisses, sucking a desperate breath into his lungs. She moans and it's her noises coming out of his mouth; it shouldn't sound as erotic as it does. The Doctor is so lost in the feel of her and him and _them_ that he almost doesn’t notice the way he’s chanting _please_ like mantra. It rolls off River’s clever tongue like a prayer she’s been longing to breathe and he isn’t really sure what he’s asking for, but River gives everything she can. The grip she has on her own hips is bruising as she helps him bounce atop her, guiding her hips as they shake and spasm.

 

His floppy fringe hangs in front of River’s vision and he lifts one of River's soft hands, pushing back the lock of hair so they can lock eyes. He frames his own face with River’s hands and she turns his cheek into her own palm like a flower seeking sunshine. The sharp angels of his face have softened into a picture only River could paint, and it's almost startling to see so much of his wife behind his own hazel eyes. Her soul speaks louder than skin or bones ever could, and he can't help but feel like she's apart of him now in ways she never was before. She's always been in his hearts and thoughts, that itch just beneath his skin that he could never quite sate. But now that he's seen River's light shining out of his own eyes, he'll never again look in a mirror without being blinded by the memory of her.

 

She gazes back into her own green eyes like she knows, like she'll always find him in the amber streaks that sparkle around her irises like lightning. Their bodies thrust and rock erratically but there’s a moment of stillness in their souls as they are one in every meaning of the word. Everything that’s hers is his, the pleasure and pain, the heat in her belly and the burning muscles in her thighs. Everything within him belongs to her, his skin and bones and soul, his days and hearts and future and past. He’s always been hers, as she is his and stars belong in the sky.

 

"Bespoke," he tells her, just a whisper on River's lips. 

 

River releases the grip his hands have on her hips to slide up her back, pulling her mouth to his. Their chests mold together as lips clash and bodies rock. Her tongue is in his mouth or his in hers. River is shaking, his body trembling against River's chest.  His body is on the brink, and she moans into her own mouth, high pitched and needy as his body stills and goes taught.  The Doctor keeps River’s hips moving, letting River ride out the orgasm until his shoulders are shuddering and River is panting, sucking breathes in through his mouth. His body makes quite the sight, shivering with aftershocks.  He can't help but notice his own parted, whimpering lips and the ridiculous picture he paints. But the sight of it is anything but amusing to River. Her body tenses and her hearts flutter and suddenly her core is clenching. The Doctor's movements stutter, these rolling hips faltering. River is quick to catch him, shifting his body’s hips and thrusting up to meet her own core. It's rough and more than a little desperate, but the new angle rubs against the bundle of nerves at River's center just right, and a gasping, broken scream fills the air. The universe expands and contracts around the places their bodies meet, and it’s only when his lungs burn that the Doctor realizes the cries of pleasure are his. Orgasm shocks through her body and he feels River's throat go dry, whimpers cracking as they cascade from her red lips.

 

There's a pounding in his ears as he feels calloused fingers stroke up and down River's back. Their hips have stilled but he can still feel himself sheathed inside River's core. When he blinks his way back into reality, his own smug smirk is awaiting him. That unmanageable fringe of his is dangling in her eyes again, but she doesn't seem to mind, too caught up in her perpetual need to tease him at every opportunity. "Enjoy yourself?" River asks, throaty and knowing and more mischievous a sound than he could ever make with his own lips.

 

The Doctor doesn't even pretend to hide the way River's chest heaves and her body trembles, still basking in aftershocks of bliss. Her cheeks are no doubt flushing crimson, and if he knows his body like he thinks he does, his hearts must be hammering in his chest at the sight. "You know me, always up for a science experiment."

 

River wings one of his nonexistent brows. "Is that what you're calling this?"

 

"Course," he says easily, wrapping River's arms around his neck. "Thought for sure this would switch us back."

 

"In a hurry to be rid of me, are you?" The tone is a mocking one, but he knows River well enough that she doesn't fool him, not even through the veil of his own face.

 

"Never," he smiles, tapping the tip of his nose with River's finger and she crinkles her eyes the exact same way she would in her own body.

 

He must look at her with eyes that are a bit too green, the smile on her face a bit too bright, because River rolls his hazel eyes, scoffing out a command she doesn't mean. "Stop it."

 

"Stop what?"

 

"Making my face look so helplessly besotted."

 

"You first," he challenges, a smirk on River's lips as she does her best to scowl at him through his own baby face.

 

The withering glare isn't nearly as imposing as it is when coming from her assassin eyes, and when she catches her own mouth biting back a smirk, River takes to more ruthless tactics. She puts his long fingers to use, tickling her ribs in ways only the two of them know about and the Doctor squeals, wiggling her body free of his own treacherous hands. Freedom comes at a cost, and they collapse sideways into the bed, a tangled heap of limbs and laughter. The sheets welcome them, and it's impossible to keep his smile at bay because, once again, he can’t tell where he ends and River begins.

 

Their chests are heaving, but no longer out of need. Her body still hums in the most delicious way, still tingles, sated and warm and fluttery. It's the same way he feels on the rare days River agrees to travel with him. He's learned so much about her these past few days, and even if he never says it aloud, he's grateful for the time it's given them. He doesn't want her to go, to swan off and leave him under the guise of time lines and spoilers; and maybe that's why he can't help but turn River's own pleading eyes on her, peaking up through thick lashes as he asks, “Still eager for us to switch back?”

 

She reads it in her own expression, all the things they never say, and she turns his body to face hers, using his index finger to trail a line from her own collarbone to her navel. It’s the exact motion she usually bestows on his body, and even now, it never fails to make him shiver all over. “Well,” River concedes, her mirth shinning out through his hazel eyes. “I suppose we could give it a few more days.”

 

"Really?" The Doctor beams, River's face lighting up from the inside out.

 

"Oh, yes."  River grins at him with his own mouth, flashing that smile of hers that shows far too many teeth as she says, "There are a few things I want to try."

 

“For science,” he justifies, and River smiles. 

 

“Yes, my love. For science.”


End file.
